


Conveyance

by Ononymous



Series: Hindsight [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 11:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ononymous/pseuds/Ononymous
Summary: It's well known that clear and open communication is vital in every relationship. But as it turns out, this does not necessarily require a great many words, as Asgore and Toriel soon discover...





	Conveyance

**Author's Note:**

> An impromptu sequel to [_Hindsight_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068317).

The darkened kitchen was silent. Only the faint electric buzz of the fridge's efforts to keep its contents cold filled the air, the sort of sound one can usually tune out entirely. For the owner of this kitchen however, his ears rendered such a thing harder than usual, and perhaps one other person could relate to that irritation. The darkness was not absolute. From beyond the window moonlight cast itself down on the sink, within which resided a small imbalanced collection of used dishes, mostly cups, plates and forks, the consequence of one who often dined alone and was in a dietary rut. There was also a saucepan, but instead of the sink it lay in the bin. Its contents, an unrecognisable lump of blackened carbon irrevocably fused to the Teflon coating, was the by-product of a well-meaning and passionate attempt from a concerned friend to shake up the owner's routine. The absence of noise from the day of the saucepan's demise was palpable, even if nobody was present to observe it.

If given thought, it was likely the kitchen would have been in a deep reverie over its owner's habits. One that was finally broken by the sound of the front door opening and closing. With a soft click, the kitchen was flooded with light, and its owner entered. Even though the doorway, the entire house in fact, was customised for his uncommon size, the necessity of using buildings lacking such adjustments gave him a habit of ducking his head to guarantee his horns wouldn't catch on the frame. As he advanced towards the table and pulled out a chair, a second figure entered. She was also considerably taller than average, but the combination of simpler horns and not matching the first figure in height spared her the habitual wariness of doorframes. She walked over to the prepared chair, spotting the almost-finished meal on the plate before it was removed quickly with a timid chuckle. As the sound of the plate being cleared and joining its kin broke the silence, she looked over at the hasty attempt to tidy up, the reason for it not happening sooner being her own actions.

The first of these meetings between Asgore and Toriel had not been planned. The two had no plans that involved the other for the foreseeable future, and had clashing emotions about that. But a conversation with the human child who called them mother and father had unexpectedly forced one to meet the other, and while the estrangement and its reasons were lightly touched on, the focus was instead on that conversation and its results. Asgore in particular had not allowed himself to think that anything more would come from that evening but a relieved Frisk when he escorted Toriel back home. It was a surprise, then, when not long after she had asked to speak with him. That second meeting hadn't been particularly pleasant, but after the fact it felt necessary. That afternoon they discussed what they should have discussed long ago. Toriel had laid her grievances at his feet, and Asgore responded with a full mea culpa, a capitulation that almost irritated her. It had taken aggressive prodding to force him to discuss his wider feelings about it all. The numbness both had built up by necessity was stripped away in that discussion, and old wounds had been deliberately reopened. But those wounds had originally been inflicted with venom-laced weapons, and it was only through examining them that the venom could be excised. Both had felt cleansed. They understood each other, warts and all. Once more, Asgore expected nothing more from it, though it had certainly made tending to odd jobs around Toriel's school a lot smoother.

But he had been surprised again. Over the coming months, conversations beyond what was strictly necessary had begun to crop up. Mostly small talk, and always initiated by her. He still had trouble believing Toriel would choose to take an interest in his life beyond how it affected Frisk, but that was what it looked like. It wasn't like their estrangement had never happened – their own memories and a void where once a precious connection existed denied them that fantasy – but however slowly it had happened, the events of that day no longer defined how they interacted with each other. There were some things that were truly unique to them, and no other human or monster could have understood. Yet again Asgore chose to pay attention to how that lack of hostility had improved Frisk's already cheerful spirit, though they also hinted at a hobby or something they were close to fulfilling, rather than any personal benefits or opportunities that might emerge from this. Which was why, hopefully for the final time, he was caught off guard by Toriel's text message as he finished a late dinner inviting herself over for tea, reassuring him that Sans was watching a Frisk that should be asleep. Asgore doubted he would enforce that rigorously, and suspected Toriel would agree.

"..."

"..."

Asgore had moved on from cleaning up to making the requested tea, kettle held in his bare hand as it heated up seemingly of its own volition. Neither monster spoke. They had divested themselves of their stockpile of local gossip earlier that day at school, an occasion that saw Toriel laugh at a story he recounted about Doggo, and she still had yet to give the slightest sign of what she wanted to discuss, leaving him in the dark. He knew what he wanted her to want to discuss, but he didn't trust that instinct. It was only the story itself she had laughed at, nothing more.

"..."

"..."

Whistling shrilly, the kettle announced itself boiled. Toriel continued to neutrally observe him make the tea, her reasons for being here perfectly concealed.. He finally decided to return her gaze. Her muzzle was stoic, but her eyes gave him his first clue. They weren't heartbroken like that terrible night. Nor were they weighed down with contempt like when he next saw them. The horror and guilt she'd been wallowing in when he received an urgent call from Frisk was also absent, as were the tears, and he was thankful for that. As those copper-red eyes continued to regard him, Asgore could only say they expressed doubt. He lacked confidence in this diagnosis though, for his own uncertainty about what was going on could certainly be colouring his judgement.

Adding just a splash of milk – some things never change – he delicately laid down a cup of tea in front of her, provoking the first noise she had made since entering the room, a grunt of thanks. Patiently she waited while he prepared his own tea with a dash of honey – he'd missed honey underground, monster attempts at recreating it always came off too cloying and sweet – and once he sat down with his own she took a long sip, a gesture he mirrored. He had selected chamomile, his usual choice of pre-bedtime relaxant, though on this occasion it served to dampen the slightly nervous air these change of plans had caused.

"..."

"..."

He knew that look. Warming herself up after a visit to Snowdin. That one time she slipped and fell into a lake near Waterfall, and he dried her off in Gerson's house. Being so steeped in magical fire, both monsters could sometimes underappreciate how welcome warmth could be, and the tea was serving that purpose right now. As he stupidly worried about how it might send her to sleep, she turned her head to look out the window. Asgore's nerves overcame the mild sedative. Was she bored? Had she changed her mind about whatever she wanted to say? No, she was just appreciating the moonlight. Probably. Hopefully. And then she was looking at him again, which was a relief. Or was it?

Since Toriel was now taking him in, he thought it only fair he respond in kind. She was every bit as beautiful as when- No, he told himself, you've no right, you threw that away. And yet the thought lingered. Her eyes still had that doubt or whatever it was, but they did not stop studying him. What was going through her head? He missed the days he could have had an idea, even a vague one. It was not only between parent and child that monsters formed a bond of soul and empathy. The closest of friends formed them too, leaving them with the general sense of how their friends were. Their bond had built up over many centuries, and had been strengthened even further when they finally chose to have a child. The cruel flip side to that bond came swiftly and mercilessly however, and Asgore had truly appreciated the magnitude of his mistake that day when the gaping void his son had left was even larger after that moment. A moment of rage had destroyed what little he had left. And despite their recent thaw that bond had not re-emerged, even if the void which replaced it had not felt as all-consuming as it once had, like something had budded to replace it. And therefore he would not allow the curiosity he was feeling to grow into hope.

"..."

Asgore matched her patient expression with his own. There was a reason that he had yet to begin any conversation with Toriel that wasn't focused on business, and as far as he was concerned that still held true. As she raised her cup to take another drink, the possibility occurred to him that she wanted him to break this policy and make the first move. Move towards what? He didn't know. But maybe he should make it. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

"..."

He had slammed the emergency stop button on his voice. It was just as well, for four different sentences would have piled up trying to get out and produce nothing but gibberish, but it did have the side effect of his mouth moving aimlessly while producing nothing to drown out the buzz of the fridge. Another consequence quickly joined this, a sniff from Toriel as she struggled to avoid spilling her drink in surprise. He felt the disdain that a mighty king could not even speak before an audience of one- wait, was there disdain? Or was he just expecting disdain? That smile. She had sniffed in amusement. She had enjoyed it. But how could she? Well, it wouldn't have been the first time Asgore embarrassed himself and solicited that smile.

She finished her tea and placed the cup on the table. The next sound was a soft sigh. Once more Asgore registered the impatience and accusation of the sound, before realising nothing of the sort came from the sigh at all. The sigh was one of contentment, a sound that one time had gently filled their house when no pressing matters were present. Despite their previous talks, Asgore was still expecting hostility from her, but only because he felt that hostility was still deserved. Or was he? Maybe she really was hostile, look at how she's curling her ear around her finger in... nervousness?

Asgore broke off from regarding her, pinching at the fur between his eyes and tugging lightly, wincing as the stinging helped him focus. Internally he felt like a mess. Toriel still had not given a clue as what she wanted to say, and here he was filling that gap with what he expected. It was being completely unfair to her. Whatever she wanted to say, good or ill, let it be her feelings, not the feelings he predicted. With another deep breath, he opened his eyes.

"..."

"..."

The stalemate continued. He tried to regard her expression as an observer with no stakes in the outcome, despite being no such thing. Yes, that was definitely a look mild amusement at how flustered he must appear, and the eyes... no, he hadn't gotten that wrong. She definitely had doubt. Maybe she was just as uncertain about how to begin, or whether she even should. Surely she would thank him for the tea and then return home, it couldn't possibly...

It wouldn't, probably...

It shouldn't...

And then Toriel opened her mouth.

"..."

Lack of golden hair aside, it was a good impression of Asgore's own bungled attempt at speaking from earlier, mouth moving as if someone else was supposed to be her voice. He gave his own sniff of amusement before he could stop himself. This had the effect of resetting her expression to studied neutrality, and examining the antique teapot with goat horns for handle and spout resting on a shelf for a little longer than necessary. Had she just misread him like he felt determined to keep doing? Was this all about denouncing him again? She could have done that anywhere, he'd have accepted it regardless of company. But then why, it couldn't be...? Utterly vexed, he tugged at his fur again. A little harder than he intended, for a few loose hairs came loose, and he grunted in discomfort. The noise regained Toriel's attention, as a half-forgotten tingle travelled from the damage site to his nostrils. Oh no, it had been decades since-

"Achoo!"

Finally saying something half-intelligible, it was muffled by his large hands as he prevented inflicting the sneeze on his guest. He could feel his ears twitch wildly to accompany the act. Well, it wasn't like he had any dignity to preserve.

As if in agreement, the loudest sound yet drowned out that buzz at last. Uncovering his face, he saw Toriel giggling. She'd laughed a lot since coming to the surface of course, but it was usually less restrained, as only a truly terrible joke could provoke in her. But this kind of I-really-shouldn't type of laugh at his sneeze was unmistakable, and the giggles reminded him of when he had sat on some paint which had seeped through to his fur, and it took shaving to clear it away. It was so familiar, and so adorable, he smiled properly for the first time since entering the kitchen. And right then, at that moment, it really did feel like none of it had ever happened.

And that was when it happened.

He'd never paid much attention to it before. Unlike the fridge, those feelings had long since been a background noise tuned out, and usually in accord with his own feelings so there was no errant note, and only its sudden absence had made him aware. But when the influx of discordant feelings washed over him, it was like a physical blow, the very act of which changed their context, and silenced the laughter. That was... it couldn't... it... could...

Asgore guessed Toriel's look of shock was matched in his own, but it didn't matter. He knew what he felt. A book wouldn't have covered all the nuances and subtleties of it in words, but there was one aspect that overrode it. For one second he understood completely what Toriel was thinking, what she'd been dwelling on the entire time they drank in silence. What she'd been uncertain in saying, but now her soul declared it directly, in a way it never had in the old days. A subtle blend of feelings that was truly beyond words to describe, and yet his own feelings produced the words needed to understand it all.

_Oh my god I forgot how **cute** he was!_

That moment's clarity had died the moment it emerged, drowned in shock. No force could have hidden what happened from either of them. But something remained where the void had been before, albeit currently muffled. It was dampened through conscious effort, neither sure who was trying harder. Thinking that reducing their proximity might help dampen it further, Asgore awkwardly took the two cups, ignoring the dampness of his half-full cup spilling on his arm a little, and roughly thrust them into the sink with the other dishes, making more noise than necessary. He could have cleaned them with his fire, but the cold water helped him focus. The buzz was silenced once again as he began scrubbing roughly. Ah, the one problem with honey in his tea is it left the stains harder to clean out. Perhaps steeping them in warm water would be the better approach...

"..."

A hand rested on his broad shoulder. And with it he realised the bond wasn't being dampened anymore. It steered him around to her face, radiant in the moonlight from the window. Perhaps it hadn't been how she planned, but she'd made her point. A slightly sheepish smile contrasted the defiance in her eyes, as if daring him to deny or ridicule what he'd felt. And the obvious came to him in that defiance, that the bond had been a two-way street. What had she felt of him in that moment? Was it the surface contentment sparked by her laugh, or had his deeper thoughts been just as exposed? He knew the answer instantly as he asked, of course she had. The defiance had a companion now, a quiver of pleading. Toriel had done all the talking, for want of a better word, that night, so it was time he responded. A sudden urge wanted him to look away, that of course this was madness. A steadier set of hands took the wheel however. It reminded him of the information source he now had. Most monsters never probed these bonds in great detail, there was rarely a need. But there was now, so with no idea of how to really do it, Asgore allowed the bond to speak.

"..."

...it was not all sunshine and roses. Perhaps not even a majority. Beneath her surface hopes and dreams of how this meeting would play out, doubt was stuffed into every nook and cranny, camouflaged under his own very similar doubt. And something else. The bond had died so abruptly that night he never had a chance to feel it before, but now he did. The pain of his betrayal, his crimes and his hypocrisy. Their talks had soothed it, her love for Frisk let her cope with it, but it was still there. In many ways he'd wounded her even worse than the loss of their children had, and no force could mend it entirely. That fact joined his own remorse in stinging relentlessly. But in spite of everything, it was still her. She stood here, the mercy of a child who had no reason to show any as her example, her understanding renewed through words and bonds, and the funny way one golden curl rested on his forehead which was even more adorable. It could all go wrong. It probably would. It would be easier if they just moved on.

But Toriel hated doing things the easy way, remembered Asgore. Do it properly or not at all. And like he had said that night, it wasn't about what he wanted. And yet he did want it. And the bond was there, how do you even turn that off? But maybe... No, she still didn't deserve him. He should just look at her directly and explain why this was a bad idea.

_Oh my god I forgot how **beautiful** she was!_

She smiled at however that thought appeared from her end. And as that sincere smile grew, a figure with the aggression and passion Asgore always associated with Undyne burst into his central control room, tied him up, and slammed every button which ordered the engines full speed ahead. This hijack wasn't as objectionable as he might have anticipated. The figure even allowed him to suggest one important course correction.

"...one day at a time." His voice was cracked from non-use. "Entirely at your pace. And nobody needs to know unless you wish it, not even Frisk. I daresay we have the time to take it slowly. To be sure."

She nodded stiffly. And then the hand moved from his shoulder to his head, guiding it down to hers. A truly forgotten tickling sensation danced around his nostrils as they nuzzled lightly. Soon both muzzles were dampened with tears, neither sure about who was the greater contributor. As something dissolved in Asgore - and a dark twin joined it in oblivion across from him - he silently hoped this wouldn't make him sneeze again.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
